So You Don't Have To
by Stormfire76
Summary: Since the day she'd left, Clarke had always figured somebody would try to drag her back to camp eventually. And she'd also figured that person would be a Blake... she just hadn't expected it to be the female one. Oneshot. This fic has slight hints of romantic Bellarke but can also be taken platonically.


***casually ventures out of the pjo fandom with a quick Bellarke fic that I posted on tumblr a while back***

 **Hello, The 100 fandom! I marathoned my way through this awesome show a couple months ago, and of course as soon as I finished I had to comfort myself with a fluffy Bellarke reunion fic. (Although I'm sure that there are probably a million other Bellarke reunion fics out there that people probably spent more time and energy on, haha.)**

 **Anyway, I'm sure their reunion won't be this quick or easy on the show, and honestly I'm kind of excited about that, but hopefully you enjoy this anyway! This can be interpreted as platonic or romantic Bellarke, although it's probably closer to the latter.**

 **Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own this show. (Do you have to do disclaimers for fics about TV shows? Idk.)**

* * *

 **So You Don't Have To**

* * *

Out of all the people who might've come looking for her, Clarke figured Octavia was close to the bottom of the list. So when she came marching into her camp one day, sword in hand, Clarke's hand slipped while she was skinning the rabbit she'd caught, and she sliced her hand open. She cursed.

Octavia's mouth twitched. "I see that the mighty Clarke Griffin is doing well on her own—"

"Oh, shut up," Clarke snapped, wrapping a bandage around her hand. Then she froze, flicked her eyes up at Octavia's inscrutable expression, and stammered out an, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's all right." Clarke raised her eyebrows. "No, really! Look, I only had the sword out in case I was wrong and this wasn't actually your camp. I'll put it away now." Octavia sheathed her sword and walked over, sitting down next to Clarke.

Clarke didn't move. She was afraid that if she flinched, if she twitched, if she even _blinked_ , Octavia would disappear. Eventually, Octavia cleared her throat. "Uh, how's your hand?"

"Huh? Oh, it's fine." Clarke quickly finished wrapping her bandage and ripped off the leftover cloth with her teeth. "The cut wasn't too deep, really." She fiddled with the bandage for a moment, then sighed and looked down. "Octavia, why are you here?"

"I… it's been three months."

Clarke drew her knees up to her chest. "Yes, but… but you basically said you never wanted to talk to me again."

Octavia shook her head. "'Never' is a strong word, Clarke. Also, well, Bellamy convinced me."

Clarke jerked her head up. "He did?"

"Of course he did," she said, almost _indignantly_. Clarke wasn't sure what she was indignant about. "He told me that I—I couldn't judge you for a decision you had to make in the heat of the moment, with so many unknown factors and Lexa's influence bearing down on you. He said that if _he_ had been the one making that decision, knowing you were still inside Mount Weather and needed to remain concealed, he would have done the exact same thing. So if I was going to hate you for the choice you made, then I would have to hate him too. And I…" She shook her head again, the hint of a smile twisting her lips. "I can't hate my brother, no matter how annoying he is."

Clarke stared at her, drinking in every word Octavia said. "But I… I never even told him about that night, about the choice I made and the reasons behind it and the…" She gulped. "The consequences. I never got a chance. He had to hear it all secondhand, and you're telling me he still forgave me for it?"

"Forgiveness had nothing to do with it. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing _to_ forgive. He trusted—and still trusts—your judgment. That's why he let you leave."

Clarke exhaled and leaned back against a tree. "But now he wants me to come back."

"Hell, no," Octavia said, surprised. "If Bellamy had wanted that, he would have come here and dragged you back himself. No, he'd kill me if he knew I tracked you down."

"But then… you came here on your _own_?"

"No, Lincoln's with me," Octavia said impatiently, waving her hand. "I left him behind to keep watch—and because I wanted to talk to you alone. Bellamy might be trying to give you time off, but _I_ want you to come back."

"Why?" Clarke gripped her leftover bandages in her fist, suddenly worried. "Are there a lot of wounded people who need help? Is there a new threat? Is there…" She swallowed hard. "Do we have another friend who's gone crazy that I have to kill to form an alliance with a Grounder clan?"

"No, it's nothing like that! Nothing that large-scale, anyway." Octavia leaned forward, her eyes darting back and forth as she searched Clarke's. "But it's just as serious. It's… it's Bellamy."

Clarke's lips parted in a silent _oh_. "Bellamy?"

"He's…" Octavia pulled out a knife and started stabbing the ground—slowly, methodically, all while carefully avoiding Clarke's gaze. "He's falling apart at the seams, Clarke. I mean, sure, he puts up a good front for the rest of camp, and I think he's got most of them convinced, but I _know_ him, Clarke, and he's _shattering_. After his actions got those three hundred people floated, you know he takes every death personally, and I see his guilt over Mount Weather, and it weighs him down _every single day_. Not to mention Finn's death, and Fox's, and the others that we didn't save in time. And it's a thousand times worse because you're not there to reassure him that it wasn't his fault, that he did the best he could."

"We both did the best we could," Clarke whispered, her voice cracking.

"Yes, I know that," Octavia said, "but it'd be easier for both of you if you'd worry about all that _together_. But honestly," she added before Clarke could interrupt, "that's not even the worst _part_."

Clarke gulped. "There's _worse_?"

"There can always be worse," Octavia said, offering her a smile that held no warmth. "You two led us—the hundred— _together_ , even when you absolutely hated each other. Sure, Camp Jaha exists now, and your mom is chancellor and all that, but everyone knows you and Bellamy are still in charge. Well, _were_. Now that you're gone, everyone looks to him for help, for answers—and you were always better at that part. Bellamy can risk his life and save others five times a day—and honestly, sometimes it feels like he does just that—but you're better at coming up with solutions to problems. _Please_ , Clarke." Octavia grabbed her uninjured hand and held on tight. "Leading us was too much for _two_ people to bear. For _one_ person… if you don't come back, he might literally _snap_ under all the pressure. _Please_ ," she repeated. "Please come back."

 _I bear it so they don't have to_. Clarke swallowed hard, as if that would dislodge the lump of pain that she'd been carrying around for the past three months. "Oh, _Bellamy_."

* * *

Seeing Bellamy again after so much time had passed… Clarke skidded to a halt and frowned. She was sure that she looked different too, but had he always had such dark circles under his eyes? Had that tinge of pallor always lurked under his seemingly tawny brown skin—the kind of pallor that came with constant exhaustion and not enough food? The first time she tried to call his name, it caught in her throat. The second time, it carried all the way through Camp Jaha.

Lots of people looked up, but Bellamy was the first to move, setting down his gun and running toward her. Clarke ran too, and they collided just outside the camp gates, Bellamy lifting her up off the ground with the force of his hug. Clarke thought she might have been crying, but she didn't care. "I'm sorry," she breathed over and over. "I'm so sorry."

At that, Bellamy set her down, frowning as he looked at her with the same concerned brown eyes that had watched her leave. "What are you sorry for?"

"I thought I was being strong for walking away," Clarke said. Yeah, she was definitely crying a little. "I told you, 'I bear it so they don't have to.' But I was wrong. I mean, I wasn't wrong about needing to leave—I did need that. I wouldn't have been able to see everyone every day and be reminded of my choices by the way they stared at me. But I was wrong to think I was being strong. I was being weak."

"Clarke—"

"It's… it's okay," Clarke said, "let me finish. It's okay that I was weak. I… I tried to be strong all the time, and look where that got me. But I should have thought of you too. Instead, I left you behind."

" _Clarke_ —"

"I know you let me leave, but that meant that _you_ had to stay behind and answer for what we did, all on your own. You had to lead our friends by yourself. You… you bore that so I wouldn't have to. And I let you. And for that…" Clarke took a deep breath. "For that, I'm sorry."

For a few seconds, Bellamy just looked at her. Then he pulled her forward and hugged her again, catching her by surprise. "What… what is this for?" she asked, although she wasn't pushing him away.

"You said _we_ ," Bellamy said, and she could hear his grin even if she couldn't see his face. "You said, what _we_ did."

Slowly, Clarke smiled. "I did, didn't I?" She hugged him tighter. "We're better when we're a team."

Bellamy nodded, squeezed her for one, two, three more seconds, and then pulled back, studying her face as if he didn't want to miss a single detail. "Let's go inside. I'm sure your mom would love to see you."

Clarke exhaled shakily. "All right. Let's do that." Without really thinking about it, she grabbed his hand. They walked into camp side by side, just like they used to, and Clarke smiled again. Now that she was back, she didn't plan on separating from Bellamy for a very, _very_ long time.

No more guilt. No more running away. From now on, she decided, they would bear it all together.


End file.
